


A Peaceful Night

by Ferith12



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferith12/pseuds/Ferith12
Summary: “Teach me how to play?”Suki stiffened, her hands stilling on the gujung.  She hated that Zuko could sneak up on her, and she couldn’t even call him out on it, because she was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it on purpose.
Relationships: Suki & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132





	A Peaceful Night

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for 12freddofrogs on Tumblr.
> 
> The Guzheng is a traditional Chinese musical instrument (that I know almost nothing about. oops) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsCAw-ilf_c In this fic I've spelled guzheng as gujung because it's the avatar version.
> 
> This is set some time during season three. Presumably Suki stole the gujung from somewhere.

“Teach me how to play?”

Suki stiffened, her hands stilling on the gujung. She hated that Zuko could sneak up on her, and she couldn’t even call him out on it, because she was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

“I mean, you don’t have to! You play really beautifully, I’d be happy to just listen. I mean you don’t have to let me stay. I could just go now, um.”

Suki sighed. It was weird to think he’d once come and terrorized her village, that he was the Prince of the Fire nation, an ominous spectre of power and violence, a fearsome warrior. It wasn’t even that any of that wasn’t true, and it wasn’t exactly that she was willing to let her guard down around him these days either, it was just that, as it turned out, he was also. So awkward.

“Sure,” Suki said, “I’ll teach you.”

Zuko slipped out from under the trees, shadow-like to sit beside her. It was a clear night, the moon was full and bright, the ocean waves crashed softly against the shore, and a gentle breeze brought the scent of it to where she sat on a low cliffside. It was the sort of night she could almost half believe she was home, a good night for quiet and solitude and reminiscence. Or that had been the plan, anyway.

“Here,” Suki said, “like this.”

Zuko turned out to be a fast learner. He wasn’t a natural, exactly, but he was persistent. He never managed to follow her instructions flawlessly the first time, but he never made the same mistake twice. He was surprisingly gentle with the instrument, and after a while, relaxed in a way she hadn’t ever seen him. 

“You’re good at this,” she said.

“Thanks,” Zuko said, ducking his head. She couldn’t tell in the moonlight, but Suki would be willing to bet he was blushing.

“What made you want to learn?” Suki asked, “It doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.” It didn’t. Zuko was so loud and violent, so blunt and forceful, at least when he wasn’t jumping out at her out of nowhere on his stupid silent feet. And it wasn’t that the gujung can’t be that, it’s not a quiet instrument, exactly, and it has so much passion in it. But there is a certain tranquility that it embodies, even within the chaos. It is an instrument that expresses deep emotion with restraint, elegance, dignity. It has a deeply civilized sort of wildness about it, a oneness with the world around it that is calm and contained. But here, in the clear night air, as he plucked a little fumblingly at the strings, Zuko seemed to fit. As though maybe he belonged here, with the music and the gentleness, and it was the world and his life that had pushed him unnaturally into the mould of a person who shouted in order to be heard, who rushed heedlessly into violence.

“My mother used to play,” Zuko said, “I always sort of wanted to learn, but I never got a chance.”

“How about you?” he asked a few moments later, “It doesn’t really seem like your sort of thing either.”

“My father taught me,” Suki said. 

Her father had died nearly four years ago now, but she’d kept practicing, mostly to remember him by. She and her father had never really understood each other, but they had loved each other very much. They used to be all each other had.

Well, after he died she had the warriors. He wouldn’t have approved of that. He had supported her as a little girl, fierce and determined to grow up to protect her people, who thought about almost nothing but fighting, but he hadn’t  _ liked _ it. Her father was a pacifist at heart, contemplative. His passion was for philosophy, learning, nature, and beautiful things. He loved music most of all. He understood that sometimes violence was unavoidable, but did not believe in centering your life around it. Despite all of that, though, he would have been proud of her if he could see her now. She was coming to understand what a precious gift that was.

As the sky began to grow gray with dawn, Zuko said, “The others will be waking up soon.”

Suki nodded, “Same time tomorrow then?”

Zuko looked surprised, but then he grinned, “I’ll be there,” he said.


End file.
